"I knew that you could see right through..."
Here in my office, which is ever so slightly cooler than the kitchen, which is dramatically hotter than the middle parlor where Dr. Muñoz labors so to keep the air cool and can manage only 83˚F. It must be in the nineties in the office. There are three fans running in the office, spinning the swelter round and round. Outside, it's 86˚F, with violent thunderstorms on the way. If I'm going to get any work done today, I'm going to have to try to break my habits and write on a laptop in one of the two cool rooms. It's either that or heatstroke.
Comments would be good today.
My editor at Penguin just sent me the cover mock-up for The Drowning Girl: A Memoir, and - I don't believe I'm about to say this - I like it quite a lot. Not only is the image artful and appropriate to the novel, there's even a little (?unintentional) nod back to The Red Tree. So, it has been a morning of sweaty amazement. I've asked for some changes to the cover font and the blurb at the bottom, but I'll post the cover as soon as I can.
Spooky's gone to retrieve the repaired van from the garage.*** The engine had to be replaced, but I probably said that already. Some other post.
Mostly, I'm still trying to collect money owed me by various publishers, trying to be paid here in the Land of the Debt Poor. I am considering a sort of strike. No more words until I see some green. No more corrected page proofs. No more anything. I can't eat promises.
I've been to ill from the heat and from a small "episode" late on Saturday night to think much about Readercon 22. But I think I have arrived at the inescapable conclusion that I'm simply not a con person. They're a necessary evil, and sometimes, I'll admit, there are moments of enjoyment. Mostly, seeing people I hardly get to see otherwise. I confess to a strong dislike for panels, and I virtually never attend a panel unless I'm on it. But my thanks to everyone who listened to my "rehearsal" reading, and who attended my solo panels. Next year, if you're one of those readers who has been wanting to meet for ages, or wanting to hear me read, or...whatever, you'd best find some way to get your ass to Readercon 23 in Burlington, Massachusetts. And if you're a fan of Peter Straub's (and how can you not be), there's all the more reason.
It occurs to me that I'm much to woozy from the heat to have said even as much as I've already said, much less anything more. I'm struggling to stay coherent. So, I leave you with a few photos Spooky took during the con:
No, I've not been sleeping. Can you tell? Anyway, I love when someone brings me The Red Tree with it's proper cover attached.
The panel on surrealism. I am still. Michael Cisco is in motion.
In fact, I might have been asleep.
My solo presentation on everything that went into Two Worlds and In Between.
The reading for Supernatural Noir, which went rather well, despite having been scheduled at nine o'clock p.m., opposite the Kurt Poland lousy prose contest, despite the unrelenting noise from said contest. Regardless, great book; buy it!!! And yes, I have been found out. I truly am the great granddaughter of Никола Тесла.
Or, if you prefer, Nikola Tesla.
All photographs Copyright © 2011 by Kathryn A. Pollnac
Melting,
Aunt Beast
*** Spooky just returned from the garage, without the van. The idiot fucking mechanics put the old spark plugs into the new engine and think maybe that's why it's still running like shit. They've had it two weeks.
Comments would be good today.
My editor at Penguin just sent me the cover mock-up for The Drowning Girl: A Memoir, and - I don't believe I'm about to say this - I like it quite a lot. Not only is the image artful and appropriate to the novel, there's even a little (?unintentional) nod back to The Red Tree. So, it has been a morning of sweaty amazement. I've asked for some changes to the cover font and the blurb at the bottom, but I'll post the cover as soon as I can.
Spooky's gone to retrieve the repaired van from the garage.*** The engine had to be replaced, but I probably said that already. Some other post.
Mostly, I'm still trying to collect money owed me by various publishers, trying to be paid here in the Land of the Debt Poor. I am considering a sort of strike. No more words until I see some green. No more corrected page proofs. No more anything. I can't eat promises.
I've been to ill from the heat and from a small "episode" late on Saturday night to think much about Readercon 22. But I think I have arrived at the inescapable conclusion that I'm simply not a con person. They're a necessary evil, and sometimes, I'll admit, there are moments of enjoyment. Mostly, seeing people I hardly get to see otherwise. I confess to a strong dislike for panels, and I virtually never attend a panel unless I'm on it. But my thanks to everyone who listened to my "rehearsal" reading, and who attended my solo panels. Next year, if you're one of those readers who has been wanting to meet for ages, or wanting to hear me read, or...whatever, you'd best find some way to get your ass to Readercon 23 in Burlington, Massachusetts. And if you're a fan of Peter Straub's (and how can you not be), there's all the more reason.
It occurs to me that I'm much to woozy from the heat to have said even as much as I've already said, much less anything more. I'm struggling to stay coherent. So, I leave you with a few photos Spooky took during the con:
No, I've not been sleeping. Can you tell? Anyway, I love when someone brings me The Red Tree with it's proper cover attached.
The panel on surrealism. I am still. Michael Cisco is in motion.
In fact, I might have been asleep.
My solo presentation on everything that went into Two Worlds and In Between.
The reading for Supernatural Noir, which went rather well, despite having been scheduled at nine o'clock p.m., opposite the Kurt Poland lousy prose contest, despite the unrelenting noise from said contest. Regardless, great book; buy it!!! And yes, I have been found out. I truly am the great granddaughter of Никола Тесла.
Or, if you prefer, Nikola Tesla.
All photographs Copyright © 2011 by Kathryn A. Pollnac
Melting,
Aunt Beast
*** Spooky just returned from the garage, without the van. The idiot fucking mechanics put the old spark plugs into the new engine and think maybe that's why it's still running like shit. They've had it two weeks.